


Creation

by Batmanfan11



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, ROTG Secret Santa 2018, Reflection, ionahi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 06:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanfan11/pseuds/Batmanfan11
Summary: North and Jack have a one on one conversation about how they know what to create. Be it with toys or snowflakes, every creation serves a purpose, big and small.*This is part of the ROTG Secret Santa exchange 2018.*





	Creation

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the ROTG Secret Santa exchange and I was gifted ionahi! One of the first ROTG tumblr I followed and fawned over when the fandom was still bustling with new content. Those were simpler times. I'll never quite leave this fandom, no matter how far away I go.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

Jack placed the tips of his fingers over his mouth in contemplation as if he were searching for the right words to say.

“Create.” North slowed down his wood chisel to finish his stroke before giving Jack a questioning side-eye. Christmas was only 5 months away but when the millions of lives of children relay on you, you never want to disappoint, so work must continue 24/7. He grabbed a new piece of sand paper and started smoothing out the curves of his toy.

“What I mean to say is – “  Jack rushed, “- how do you come up with all of these toys by yourself? Don’t you ever, I don’t know, get burnt out?” Jack had resigned himself to the arm of a red velvet chair by the fireplace, crossing his legs. His posture was stiff in worry with the slight hint of embarrassment. His cheeks were red not by the fire place, but by the curiosity in his question. He fiddled with his staff, spinning the butt on the floor.

North picked up the now smooth cylinder in his hands and blew away the remainders of wood shaving and dust.  “Well, off course, I get burnt out from time to time.” North took a moment to inspect the diameter of his wooden creation.

Jack leaned in for interpretation.

“During those times, I must take a break, no matter how much I don’t want to. That goes for all of us, including you, Jack. I remember, in a time you weren’t even created yet, when Bunny pushed himself too far one Easter and ended up ruining tons of chocolate because he was too fixated on creating this perfect Easter.” North had air quoted around ‘perfect’ while still holding his toy. “After that, even the sight for a chocolate wrapper turned him off. Toothiana and I had to intervene and help with preparations while Sandy settled Bunny done for a nap. I wouldn’t dare tell him that I pitied him, but I did. It’s hard not to when the people you love the most hurt themselves.”

Jack had fixed his posture, creating a tight ‘C’ in his back with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His staff hook had gravitated to rest around his neck. Jack knew better to wait till the end to ask questions.

“For me, however,” North picked up a new block and went to work creating a new shape, “my burn outs make me make incorrect toys. I remember the years when I first began giving gifts all over the world, I wanted to impress everyone with a new toy invention every year. At first, it was amazing!” North separated his hands from the block and looked out past the window in a daze. “Jack, you would not believe the awe, the wonder, I saw when I gave my first gift out. It was stupendous! Marvelous! I was an inventor and I was amazing! No one could out invent me, Nicholas St. North!” North gave out a wholehearted laugh, resting itself in the bones of Jack’s growing excitement and the inner skeleton of Santoff Claussen.

As his laughter died down, so did his mood.

“But alas, it came to a halt. I could feel it in my belly that something was wrong, but I ignored it. That Christmas was my personal worst Christmas. My toys were malfunctioning left and right, my schematics made no sense, I was running out of supplies, and the yetis almost quit on me. I was more worried about creating a perfect Christmas that I ignored myself and my needs.”

North’s hands had slowed down, and his head was bowed in long forgotten shame. Jack was not used to seeing him this way. It felt foreign, something he wasn’t supposed to see, something North wasn’t supposed to show. On the gentlest of winds, Jack uncurled himself and moved toward North’s work bench and took the stool adjacent to North.

“How did you get out of it?”

North chuckled.

“It wasn’t easy but I took a break. I took a moment to look over myself and what I needed. A bit of a nap here, a hint of cookies and milk there, and a long overdue apology and recognition to my staff. I would be no where without them. “

North inspected his now narrow tube, much smaller than the first one, and replaced his chisel with a spade and started cutting a hole through the top.

“But it wasn’t enough.”

Jack shot him a worried look.

“My toys still weren’t coming out right. It took me a few weeks to realize why. I wasn’t building from the heart. My creations did not have myself in them. When I realized that, I was able to create the wonders you see now.”

The fire crackled between the silence of the two men, one questioning and the other remembering. After what had felt like a thick cloud settling over both into a cottony situation, Jack picked back up the conversation.

“But, that doesn’t answer how you know what to create. I guess that story answered why or what but not how. How do you know they will turn out wonderful or that people will even want to play with them? How are you so intuitive?”

North smiled as his finished his hole. “Easy. Problems.”

“Problems?”

“Yes, problems.” North finished making his hole and blew in it to clear it of debris. “Do you know of the old saying, ‘Mother Necessity’?”

Jack straightening himself and pursued his lips. “I believe I remember hearing it once or twice. It’s something to do with inventions? Or something like that. I’m not sure.”

North put down the narrow cylinder for the larger one and drilled a hole along the side about half way through. “It’s meant to represent why people invent and what they should invent. Think of the light bulb or a sewing machine. Someone had to create it but there must be a problem first before anything can be done. It’s the same with toys. There is a problem, boredom, sadness, uneasiness, anxiousness, jitteriness, sensitivities. Creating is nothing more than fixing. It’s a purpose. To create without purpose is like living without a life.” North finished his hole. “Do you understand?”

There was silence.

“Maybe.”

North gave a quiet huff and he empties out the wood shavings and placed the smaller cylinder into the bigger one until it all the way down. His train was coming together, a favorite toy of his since the beginning. Somber eyes drifted past the wooden exterior until it became metal, cold and covered in frost. A small hand ran across the neat, black pattern on it’s side, mesmerized by the power it held. He could still smell the smoke as it left the station.

“How do you do it?”

“W-what?”

North started to craft four small wheels as he turned the conversation a 180. Maybe Jack will understand with his own perspective.

“How do you create your snowflakes? I know the old saying is that no two snowflakes look the same, so how do you do it?”

Jack leaned himself against the table with his arm bent on the table, hand near his hair in exasperation, and other hand perpendicular to his body. “North, I don’t make my snowflakes individually, I just make them appear, like, poof!" Jack extended a hand and opened his palm up for a small flurry of snowflakes to appear.

“Well of course you make your snowflakes!" North started to sand the wheels. "You think your power is just to 'poof'? Tell me, is there a difference in your flakes when you're sad? When you're happy? Joyful? Angry? Serious?" North leaned in with a cunning smile as he saw himself proving his point to Jack.

"I- Well. Yeah, I suppose. I never really thought about it but I guess now that you mention it, I suppose there is a difference. Happy flakes are light and breezy and kind of go where ever the wind takes them. Sad flakes have a tendency to just fall and they feel," Jack thought on his wording, "heavier, if that makes sense." 

"Have you ever looked at them before?"

Jack shrugged. "Not up close. I've seen the pictures that other people have taken, though. It's still so unreal that they have so many shapes and designs." Jack laid his head on his flattened entwined fingers and looked toward the fire. "I see where you're going with this, North. I'm not naive."

North dramatically gave a gasp as he held one of his huge hands over his chest. "Jack, I never thought you were. I just think sometimes you need reminding. Like all of us." North let his hand drift back down to his wheels, almost finished. He chuckled and looked over to Jack's overcasted face. The summer solstice has taken place only a few months back so North can now relish in more day light, but even that was fleeting as there day was ending. With a twinkle in his eye, he had an idea. 

"Jack, will you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Will you go grab me that plate of cookies over there on the desk? Behind you."

Jack nodded and walked over to the desk where North had piles of documents and blueprints laid about. When Jack first saw his clutter, he believed it was all part of his Christmas list of good and bad children. Turned out to be payrolls and milk stained sketches. Jack picked up the cookies North asked for on a gaudy Christmas plate, filled with 3D bumps and bright colors. Under it, however, was a book. It was a small cube like book and it was a good inch and then some. The only thing on the cover was a picture of a Snowflake and the title [Snowflakes](https://books.google.com/books?id=JGVRfhcfwJkC&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false). Jack's finger's started to burn.

"Pick up the book too."

And Jack did just that. 

Jack placed the cookies next to North. He was just finishing skewering in the last wheel. He looked up briefly as Jack was flipping through the first few pages of the book. Every page had an up close photos of snowflakes, his snowflakes. Each one beautiful, each one unique, each one special in their own way. North could see the wonder in Jack's face as he traced the lines of the snowflakes on the page. He knew them. He created them. 

"It's getting late, Jack. It might be time for bed. Why don't you take the book, use it as some light reading." North heard the book snap close and Jack rose to his feet. He held the book to his chest and rubbed the spine with such tenderness. Jack laid the book back down on the table and came around and hugged North around the neck. North placed down his toy and hugged him back, popping a few places in Jack's back at the same time. Jack had to tap out to get out of the hug but appreciated the warmth of his friend. 

"Goodnight, North."

"Goodnight, Jack."

Jack picked back up his book and staff and walked out of North's office. 

North turned back around and picked his first can of paint, ready to add detail to his train. "It's all in the belly." North picked up a cookie off the plate and got to work.

* * *

 

In Jack's room, gifted with a warm glow of a forever setting sun, Jack dug into his book. Absorbing every flake and every emotion and felt when he looked at them. He didn't need a lot to know those snowflakes, to know their purpose, to know their feeling. Jack could see himself when he saw those flakes, though not literally. His feelings of happiness, his feelings of loneliness, his feelings of fear, and his feelings of freedom. They were all there in this thick little book. How often are you this luck to see your past work so beautifully shown. It wasn't until the second loop around the book that Jack realized how old the book was. It was copy righted 2008. That was an easy 10 years from now. Jack wondered what his snowflakes must look like now.

He felt anxious.

So much has happened in those 10 years. So much good. So much bad. 

Did he even want to see them now?

What if they reflected something he didn't want brought out?

Jack closed his eyes and leaned back into his pillows. He took in a shaky breath and placed one hand in front of him. He slowly let his snow flake form and when it was done, he opened his eyes and brought he flake close.

It was a smile. Bright and white, happy and gleeful. The flake was in the form of a closed off octagon where his frosted lines were rounded out curved upwards. The upper half was filled with support type frost to keep the smile in place. Though this flake would be difficult to create in the wild, it was still a flake worth creating and seeing. Jack smiled back at his flake and held to his nose. It busted upon impact but Jack didn't care.

He could always make more.  

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read the book Jack is reading in the story, click the link! It's the full story on Google Books. It's free and it's worth the read. It is a beautiful book.


End file.
